Sleepless Solitude: The True-Life Journals of a Xanax'd Millennial (Part 12 of 12)

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December 29

December 29

I’m trying to get my life back on track. Not only for the sake of my own sanity, but to protect the lives of my parents. I’m a ticking time bomb. I’ve been such an asshole to everyone lately. When I turn into that monster, the cycle of anger and guilt begins anew. As the bad mood pushes itself forward, I become angry over the guilt I am experiencing. I’ve been through this before. Sometimes, it can take a while for me to snap out of it.

Sadly, I’ve come to the realization that this is probably how I will always be. I’ll the happiest person alive for a while. When the high is over, I’ll then sink into a deep hole for a short period of time. I don’t know if it’s my mind’s way of balancing things out, but it happens all the time. I’m having trouble breaking out of the cycle this time, though.

What’s worse is that the adjustment of living in this hotel is much harder than I thought it was going to be. I’m already over it. Toss it in the garbage. Send it away. I don’t want to be here anymore. It’s so difficult to live a normal life in this environment. Oh, my God. Has this already started? I just spent the last seven months complaining about the bleakocity of living in a daily routine. Now, it’s barely been two weeks, and that’s what I’m angry I can’t find. This is outrageous. I need to log off. I need to log out of life, really.

Fortunately, I managed to keep my eating in check for most of the day. That’s where the productivity ended, though. I decided to smoke. An incredibly bad idea, as usual. To be fair, it could have been worse. One of the good things about being locked up in this hotel room is that I am limited to the food I have on hand. Right now, that menu features an excess of Trader Joe’s Fiberful Granola Bars, David’s Tea, and a variety of Christmas candy. If I can manage to avoid a restaurant meal with Mom and Dad and make it to the gym in the same day, I’m considering that a miracle in itself.

On that note, after a quick rubdown – a twice daily occurrence – and a short nap, I also made it to the gym for the first time in a while. So, yes. I guess miracles do happen. My workout was definitely a struggle, though. Even Eddie Murphy’s shouting on the Dreamgirls soundtrack wasn’t enough to take me a full six miles.

After I ended up spending that extra night in Montreal, Jessica rescheduled our dinner party to this evening. Since Phillip has the car, Mom had to drive me to Kate and Adam’s house. We would drive to Jessica’s from there, and Mom would pick me up when we got back. That whole situation is definitely adding to my frustration.

I’m trapped inside this hotel. I feel like a little kid who has to be driven around by his parents. You want to pick up some lemons for your water? Maybe some bread for lunch? Better ask for a ride to the grocery store! I’m a very independent person. When I feel as though my freedom is being taken away from me, I get very, very upset. Right now, I have nothing. Except for Mom messaging me every morning to make sure I’ve eaten breakfast, that is. I need to get past this. Stop being such a fucking brat. Even thinking about it makes my head hurt.

As I type this out, all I want to do is smoke a big fat bowl to take my mind off everything. I don’t want to think.

I don’t want to think about this hotel.

I don’t want to think about my writing.

I don’t want to think about my future.

I don’t want to think about my relationships.

Colin Crape is long gone, by the way.

I don’t want to think about my ex-boyfriend, who keeps fucking with my head every few weeks.

I don’t want to think about my body.

I don’t want to think about anything.


I want to zone out. I want to feel that calm high rush over me, until all I can think about is the voice of Michael Jackson blasting through my headphones. I know it’s not the right solution. Sometimes, I feel like it’s my only option.

Anyway. Moving on.

After gathering my things, I arranged this evening’s carpool with my Uber driver. Once Mom dropped me off at Kate’s place, I finally felt like I could unwind. There’s something so therapeutic about being around a good friend. Kate always makes things better. With a glass of wine in hand, we caught up quickly before getting in the car with Adam. From there, we drove to Jessica’s house.

Inconveniently located in the Northwest Territories, we finally arrived in Loretto. Following a quick tour around the place, we all took a seat at Jessica’s kitchen table. Tonight was mostly a series of different catch-up conversations – talking about the holidays, Kate’s wedding, and some of Adam’s bachelor weekend drama that I had no idea about. Hearing Adam’s horror stories gave me a new appreciation for how our September girls’ weekend in Montreal went. Damn. What a great trip. We played cards – I attempted – and everyone except for Adam drank a lot.

Note to self: find a husband who will be my Designated Driver.

Shortly after midnight, we drove back to Kate’s house. Mom picked me up around 1 a.m., and we booked it home to the Hilton. Once in the silence of my own room, I smoked in the bathroom and then climbed into bed.

I can’t stop thinking about how strange the concept of a “relationship” is. I know, I know. We’ve talked about this before. It’s always on my mind, though. Perhaps discrediting the idea of eternal love is a way for me to rationalize my solitude. I thought about it this morning, as I was tracking the cycles of depression I’ve been experiencing. Those highs and lows can so negatively impact my relationships with men – both in the short- and long-term.

Here’s an example. Sometimes, I’ll meet an incredible guy at the absolute worst time. Things will be great at first. Life will be sunshine, rainbows, and lollipops. Eventually, I’ll slip into a funk. As a result, I then lose interest in the guy. Perhaps I even begin to act a different way, which can be very unattractive. It works both ways. It also works in long-term situations, where I end up turning into a different person. Part of me believes this is the reason why I have held on to RX for so long. RX has seen that rare side of me. Both sides, actually. When that happens, you connect with someone on a different level. I’ve never had that type of true, lasting connection with anyone else. Will I ever find it again?

I look at Kate and Adam. Jessica and Chris, too. Their paths all seem so – defined. As if they know exactly where they’re going. They went to school, graduated, found their partners, moved in together, got married, and now, it’s as though kids are just a given. Everyone will settle into the standard nuclear family dream.

Listen. I don’t need a pep talk on the whole “don’t compare yourself to others” crap. I know how to give myself that speech, plus I am not ready to settle into that of type of lifestyle right now – if ever. We all have different narratives. Although we are living on the same Earth at the same time, nobody’s path is going to be the same.

What remains so strange to me, is the fact that so many people appear to have the same path. Of course, I am strictly speaking on a surface level. Details of each situation will be vastly different. Still, it’s the idea that all of my friends have fallen into this same narrative. It freaks me out. Why haven’t I? Will I ever? Am I suited for a relationship? I mean that in all seriousness. Oftentimes, I think the closest I’ll come to another lover is my left hand.

Anyway. I’m tired.

Goodnight xo

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